Chapter One: Sleeping Game
At the exact moment of my final surrender, the FUCKING PHONE RANG. My right hand had just settled upon the firm, warm, rounded right cheek of her silky ass. Her hungry mouth, finally receiving the signal for which it had been waiting, descended toward my glistening hard cock with a gasping cry of pure lust, a deep hungry growl. Suddenly, just as I felt her hot panting mouth a fraction of an inch away from my wet, angry red cockhead, the most piercing, startling sound in the world shattered both the moment and the flickering air of the TV-lit living room. The living room that belonged to my best friend, who had been my best friend since third grade, who I loved like a brother, whose trust in me was absolute. The best friend who had a new wife that he loved with all his might. The very same wife that I had just, by laying the white flag of my hand upon her perfect bare ass, wordlessly consented to fuck.
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I had been looking forward to this trip for months. My best friend John had moved from my neighborhood in Seattle to Anaheim two years before, and I was eagerly anticipating seeing him again, catching up on old times, and enjoying a whirlwind tour of all the delights that Sunny Southern California had to offer. I had done my fair share of traveling, but for some reason California had never been on my itinerary, so I told John that I wanted to see all the sights, the cheesier and more touristy the better: Disneyland, the beaches, Hollywood, the works.
I was also very much looking forward to finally coming face to face with John's new wife Claire. I had talked to her several times on the phone in the year that had passed since they got married, and from the very start it was like we had known each other for most of our lives; our first conversation ended with both of us almost in tears from laughing so hard. She was witty, sweet, charming, and absolutely hilarious, with a sense of humor that was somehow wicked and childlike at the same time. She also had the sexiest voice that I had ever laid ears on, like honey poured over silk, with a delicious lil southern twang (she was originally from Louisiana), but I tried my best to ignore the effect her voice always had on my body, the tingle it invariably produced in my cock. I found myself eagerly looking forward to our phone conversations, and I had even taken to calling her at times when I knew that John wouldn't be home. At the end of these phone calls, I would often glance up at the clock and be shocked that two hours had passed, when I was certain that we had only talked for half an hour at the most.
The sound of the 727's wheels hitting the tarmac startled me from a delicious, illicit daydream. I was reliving, in vivid detail, the latest of these two hour phone calls, which had occurred just two nights previous. She had called me this time, at around midnight; John had been called in to the hospital, and she couldn't sleep. John was a radiologist, and a hospital in Anaheim had made him an offer he couldn't refuse two years ago. He loved his job, and the money was good, but the hours were often grueling and always unpredictable. The late hour and the fact that we were both in bed were both firsts for Claire and I, but the situation still seemed perfectly natural, at least at first. From the very start, we had been incredibly comfortable with each other, each saying whatever was on our minds without giving it a second thought, so I don't think either of us were terribly shocked to find the conversation gradually shifting to topics of sex, to the things that turned us on. It just seemed natural, easy, as if we were discussing our favorite movies. She told me that the most arousing thing in the world to her was her partner's passion, his hunger for her, and his pleasure. She also said that she absolutely LOVED to watch a man jack off, and that when she masturbated the image that almost always sprang to mind as she orgasmed was the image of a spurting, erupting cock.
My cock was fully, painfully erect by this point. It was like she was probing into the deepest recesses of my primal, animal self, the seat of my hunger, my lust. It was incredible, how perfectly her hungers and fantasies matched my own. Nothing was more arousing to me than watching a woman pleasure herself, and passion and responsiveness had always been more exciting to me than pure "technique." Our talk gradually grew more and more explicit, more direct, and I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was as aroused as I was. At one point, I let out a slight involuntary moan, and my heart rate increased from merely racing to POUNDING when I heard her moan softly in response. She then started to ask me, breathlessly, the question that I had both dreaded and hoped for: "Mark... are you touching..." when suddenly her call waiting clicked in. We both knew who was on the other line. John was calling to check on her, to tell her that he loved her, and when she clicked back over to me, I shakily told her good night, my heartbeat clearly palpable in the head of my engorged cock. We both knew that the moment had passed, and we were both relieved and disappointed at the same time. I hung up the phone and then immediately, frantically stroked my slippery throbbing cock, which I had indeed been touching non-stop throughout our conversation, until I exploded with a screaming gasp, erupting with so much force that I pelted my face and hair with hot, thick streams of cum, still hearing her sultry, breathy, hungry voice in my ear, the sound of that soft moan echoing over and over, her half-formed question still hanging in the air between us...
As the plane taxied up to the terminal in the late afternoon sun, I tried to clear the recollection of that night from my mind and will the painful erection evoked by the memory to subside. It was absolutely impossible that Claire and I would ever be more than friends; John was the dearest friend I had ever had; we were more like brothers than any actual brothers I knew, and there was absolutely NO way I would betray him. EVER. By the time I deplaned, I had recovered my composure, my cock was behaving itself, and I eagerly scanned the crowded terminal for John and Claire.
When my eyes met Claire's for the first time, it was like an electric shock passed between us, and I gasped. I had seen pictures of her, of course, but they had not prepared me for the sparkling eyed, raven haired vision that appeared before me. It was like the rest of the crowd suddenly went dim, lost in the shadows cast by her incandescent smile, framed the most luscious pair of lips that I had ever laid eyes on. My eyes drank her in hungrily, instantly. In addition to that incredible smile, she was wearing a gossamer antique green sundress, which came down to just past mid-thigh, affording a tantalizing view of her spectacular legs, and strappy little sandals on her deliciously bare feet. Her shining dark hair was drawn back into an adorable little ponytail, which bounced captivatingly as she ran to meet me, her arms open wide. I pulled her into my arms and SQUEEZED her in an embrace that seemed to be simultaneously the most natural, easy thing in the world and the most earth-shattering event in history. I was so stunned by her radiant beauty, so intoxicated by her sweet, clean, heady scent, and so enraptured by the warm, delicious feel of her body, that it took me a few moments to realize that the dimmed crowd in the terminal around her did not include John. He was nowhere to be seen.
I held her for what seemed like either an eternity or an instant (time had ceased to behave normally the moment our eyes met), drunk on the feel of her, amazed at the way that she clung to me as if her experience was exactly mirroring my own. I reluctantly released her, held her at arms length and just grinned like an idiot for another eternity instant, lost in the sparkling depths of her eyes.
